


The Beskar Letter

by DamieMontclair



Series: Damies Jangobi Week 2021 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Brief Mention of Suicide, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Time Travel, discussion of clone chips and order 66, makeshift family, please take care of yourselves!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamieMontclair/pseuds/DamieMontclair
Summary: Jangobi Week Day 2: Time Travel“Jango?” he asked, hesitant but needing the confirmation. Was this the man he’d married, young and foolish and in love? Was this the man who, for all intents and purposes, slaughtered the Jedi?
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Boba Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker
Series: Damies Jangobi Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138931
Comments: 26
Kudos: 205
Collections: Jangobi Week





	The Beskar Letter

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification (and because I did the maths & I'm stupidly proud): Jango is 44, Obi-Wan is 42, Boba is 17 and Luke is 5.  
> Parts of this (the angsty bit(s) & the title), were inspired by La Lettre de Métal by Indochine, thank you Ewina for the music, I'm still crying ♥  
> Thanks Tyu for the summary help!

The first thing Jango noticed when he came to was the splitting headache, quickly followed by the deep throbbing of his neck. He cracked his eyes open, instantly closing them again at the bright sun stabbing into his eyes. Where was his helmet when he needed it? He brought up his hand to shield his eyes and carefully opened them again. Sand. All around him, dull tan sand. He turned his head, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight of his helmet laying only a few feet away. He tried to get up but a sharp throb in his neck bought him up short. He couldn’t remember how he got injured. All he knew was that this clearly wasn’t the pit on Geonosis. Maybe the Jedi had taken him captive and dumped him here as a form of creative punishment. Yeah right, he thought. As if the Jedi wouldn’t kill him first chance they got. They almost had. Kriffing Mace Windu.

After the pain dulled back down to a dull throb, he tried to get up again, this time more carefully. Standing, seeing only sand for klicks on end, he knew he was in trouble. Kriff this, kriff Tyrannus. The moment he got back to Boba, he was out. He jammed his helmet on his head, hissing softly at the pain from his neck. The helmet helped filter out the light, but HUD didn’t help him much, there were no life signs anywhere, no animals and certainly no sentients. Looking up at the two suns of an unfamiliar planet, dread crashed over him. He wouldn’t make it long if he didn’t find civilization, and without knowing the planet, he couldn’t use the suns to orient himself. 

With one last glance around, Jango started walking. No use standing around slowly cooking in his armour, and maybe he’d get lucky. By the time night fell, Jango was exhausted. He’d found a few desert plants he remembered being safe and enjoyed the little moisture he could get from them – it wasn’t nearly enough, Jango knew. When the first moon reached its peak, Jango sat down on a dune, eyeing the tall ridges in the distance. Maybe, maybe someone lived there. He closed his eyes. He needed rest, his body too worn down to keep going.

When he came to, the suns were already beating down on the sands, and he struggled upright. He was so tired… With dragging steps he started moving towards the ridge in the distance. The closer he got, the harder it was to keep going.  
And then, his HUD pinged. There were three life forms somewhere up on the ridge. He gauged the distance. He needed to get closer, the fuel for his jetpack wouldn’t carry him all the way up unless he stood right at the bottom of the ridge. Somewhere, his instructors were laughing at him…

The ridge cast a shadow over the sand, and Jango couldn’t help his relieved sigh at getting out of the sun. His kute might be thermoregulated, but there were limits… The shadow of the ridge chased him as the sun moved across the sky, the constant threat of being back in the sun speeding Jango up a bit. Once he reached the bottom of the almost straight wall, he fired his jetpack, shooting upwards and hoping to the Ka’ra that whoever was up there would be willing to help him. He landed with a heavy thud, legs giving in at the impact. He stumbled forward but managed to regain his balance before he faceplanted into the sand. A helmet full of sand was not fun. He looked up. There, less than a klick away, was a large sand coloured hut! 

Jango started walking with renewed vigour, the sight of the hut and the three life signs still blinking on his HUD raising his hope. He was almost at the hut when he noticed the man in tan tunic bent over a vaporator. He steps closer, ready to beg for a cup of water if he has to – he has a kid to get back to, his pride doesn’t matter. The person looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of his armour, hand dropping down to pull the knife on his belt.

“Get inside!” the redhead shouts. “And this is non-negotiable!” he adds, eyes never leaving Jango. “I expected a lot, but taking my riduurs armour to sneak up on us? That’s low,” he sneered, getting into a ready stance. “I don’t care what your name or number is, or how you even managed to get the beskar’gam, you’re not getting to the kids.

Jango takes a step back, this isn’t what he’d been expecting. And then he blinked, a memory flashing through his mind. “Obi-Wan…?” he asks, confused. What the hell was going on? What was Obi-Wan doing on this planet and what children did he mean? Was Boba here? Why did he act as if a clone was pretending to be Jango? Jango shook his head to clear the thoughts away, only partially succeeding. Nothing made sense. Seeing as the Jedi had only raised his hand higher at the sound of his name, he decided to take a chance. He reached up, pulling off his helmet.

Obi-Wan visibly startled. He’d expected to see a familiar face, after all there had been millions of clones, but this- this was unexpected. The scars were Jangos, and no one elses. It didn’t make sense. The man in front of him wasn’t old enough to be Jango – if the man had survived Geonosis that is, and Mace had always been confident about the fact that no one walked away from a beheading, even if they’d never found a body. Obi-Wan had carefully never mentioned his marriage to the bounty hunter. His eyes fell down to the man’s neck in morbid curiosity, and he gasped in a breath at the large burn-wound running around his neck.

Obi-Wan didn’t understand how this was possible, but no one would go through this much trouble to fake being someone they weren’t. They’d never found his riduurs body on Geonosis. He looked just the same as he had back then, except for that burn. “Jango?” he asked, hesitant but needing the confirmation. Needing to know this was the man he’d married, young and foolish and in love. Needing to know that this was the man who helped create the clones. Needing to know this was the man who, for all intents and purposes, slaughtered the Jedi. Needing to know this was the man who had set his own children up to become nothing more than flesh droids, going against every code he’d ever had.  
He never got the answer he needed to hear. Before Jango could confirm or deny the accusation, there was a shout and Boba launched himself at his father – hadn’t he told them to stay inside? Force’s sake! – and punched him in the nose. Something cracked loudly and Jango, already unsteady before getting punched in the face, stumbled back and fell, helmet clattering to the floor.

Jango sat there for a moment, stunned, blood dripping from his nose. He hadn’t seen the attack coming, too busy looking at Obi-Wan, trying to understand the anger he could feel coming off the man. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him so angry. Then his attention was ripped back to reality and he looked up from the ground, a hauntingly familiar teen looking down at him, struggling against Obi-Wans grip. There was only one person this could be, only one person he could have hurt that way, seeing the familiar anger reflected in the eyes of the teen.

“Bob’ika?” he asked, voice breaking on the endearment.

The teen screamed. “You don’t get to call me that, you- you- you demagolka!”

“Language!” Obi-Wan chided, trying to cling to some normalcy as reality blurred, before a pull on his tunic sleeve distracted him. He looked down at Luke.

“Da, why’s the man hurting?” Luke asked, big blue eyes fixed on Jango, face serious in a way it rarely was. That snaped Obi-Wan back into his body, reality suddenly coming back full force. He looked at Jango, seeing the blood running down his face from his broken nose.

“Get up,” he orders, already turning to walk to the home he’d made with Boba and Luke over the last four years, ignoring the protests from Boba. Once they’re all in the house, Obi-Wan waves at one of the chairs surrounding the dining table. “Sit down.”

Jango sits, still unsure about where he stands. He can’t help but look at Boba. It should be him, holding his son, comforting him with a hand in his hair. And Ka’ra, he had grown. If Jango was guessing right, Boba must be about 16 or 17 by now. Jango tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he had missed almost seven years of his sons’ life. And then the anger in Boba’s face finally hits him like a speeder to the face. He hadn’t quite made the connection before. Boba must’ve thought he’d died. Died on Geonosis. At the hands of the Jedi. Without ever knowing who his other buir was. Ka’ra, what had he done? 

He watches his son sullenly stomp out the room as the younger boy – Luke – comes back carrying a med pack that is far to large for a boy his age to carry. He couldn’t be older than six. Obi-Wan quickly took the pack from the boy, ruffling his hair with a fond smile before sending him out of the room.

Obi-Wan set down the med pack with more force than necessary, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know what had happened, but Jango was lucky Boba had punched him when he did. Obi-Wan didn’t like admitting it, but he had been very close to losing his temper at the thought of the bounty hunter’s actions. He carefully avoided the thought of Jango’s presumed death. He quickly riffled through the pack, coming up with gauze to help staunch the bleeding and a bandage to cover the burn on his neck. “We don’t have bacta, it’s too expensive out here. You’ll just have to make do with some painkillers.” He turned to face Jango. “I’m going to have to set that, you better hold still.”

Jango simply nodded. Obi-Wan looked over the other man. He was dusty, covered in sand, armour dull. His lips were cracked from dehydration. There were dark bags under his eyes. He looked empty, like he’d seen too much and didn’t understand enough. He looked like some of the clones. The ones they sometimes found with a blaster in their mouth after one campaign too many. One loss too many. Obi-Wan shook his head. Jango wasn’t like the Vode. He tipped the hunter’s head back, quickly pulling the bone back into place, wincing at the sound. Jango didn’t even flinch. Obi-Wan pressed the gauze to Jango’s nose. “Hold that,” he ordered, already grabbing a salve from the pack, and turning his attention to the man’s neck. He quickly covered the burn in salve – it all the way from the left side of his neck to the front. Speaking must hurt, but if it did, the hunter didn’t let it show. Obi-Wan quickly wrapped the bandage around his neck before stepping back, pouring Fett a glass of water from the pitcher.

Jango sipped his water quietly as he watched the Jedi clean up, putting things back into the med pack. He still didn’t understand why he was still alive, or how he’d ended up here – or how his riduur ended up here for that matter. Obi-Wan closed the pack and moved it to the counter, turning to lean against it. He crossed his arms and looked at Jango, one brow lifted.

“I don’t know how I got here if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t even know where here even is. One moment I was on Geonosis, next thing I know I’m waking up in a sea of sand.” Jango broke eye contact with the Jedi. “And then I find out I’ve somehow missed seven years of my family’s life.”

Obi-Wan nodded. That seemed to fit with what he’d already begun to suspect. “Tatooine. And you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, darling. Better get started now.” Obi-Wan pushed himself off the counter, gesturing for the hunter to follow him. He led the man through the hallway, down a flight of stairs and through another hallway. He pushed open to the left.

“This is the guest room.” He pulled a data stick out of his belt. “There’s a pad on the bedside table. Water and a glass are on the dresser. I’ll come get you for dinner. I think it’d be better if you stayed in here until then, can’t promise Boba won’t punch you again.” Obi-Wan dropped the stick into his riduurs hand before stepping back out and closing the door carefully. He leaned back against the hallway wall, shoulder’s slumping. This is not how he’d expected this day to go. He sighed. No time for a breakdown, he still needed to talk to Boba.

He went back up the stairs, the teen was likely to be shooting rocks out back or throwing knifes to entertain Luke. He stepped outside and followed the sound of Luke’s laughter to the small range they had set up. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Boba trying incredibly difficult trick throws at whichever targets Luke pointed at.

Boba noticed him first, putting away his knife with a scowl. Luke ran up to the teen, asking to be carried back to the house. Boba’s scowl melted away at the child’s smile and Obi-Wan relaxed. Maybe they could make this work, even with the… unexpected additional factor of a dead parent reappearing.

Once they were all back inside, Obi-Wan directed Luke to the little play area in the living room, helping him pick one of the little toy ships to play with before pulling Boba into the kitchen.

The teen scowled, and Obi-Wan chuckled. It was much cuter on Boba’s face than on his fathers. 

“I’m not stupid and I can put two and two together.” Boba snapped, scowl deepening at his cabur’s chuckle. “I don’t care how he ended up here. I’m not about to forgive him for what he did to the Vode, so don’t ask me to.”

Obi-Wan pulled the teen into a hug. “I wasn’t going to. I don’t think I have forgiven him either.” He pulled back and ruffled Boba’s dark curls. Boba groaned and pulled away from his embrace. “Now, don’t think I have forgotten about that homework assignment of yours.”

“But cabuuur!” Boba moaned. “I don’t need to know all that stuff about astronavigation.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the familiar complaint. He knew Boba would do it, even if he moaned and complained all through it. He shooed the teen out of the kitchen. “If you’re done early you can help me make some uj'alayi for dessert.” Boba threw him a grin and a cheeky salute as he practically skipped out of the kitchen, still as excited at the prospect of uj'alayi as he’d been the first time Obi-Wan had made it for him.

Obi-Wan turned to the cooling unit, taking out vegetables and some nerf meat to make stew, thoughts twisting back to his wayward riduur in the guest room.

***

Obi-Wan had just grabbed the flour, setting out the ingredients for uj'alayi, when _something_ in the force cracked. The flour sliped out of his hands in shock, the package ripping on impact with the floor, dusty white flour going everywhere. The loud crying from the living room drags him back to reality. Kriff. If it had hit him this hard, with his shielding, then Luke would have a headache for days. He quickly exited the kitchen, gesturing for Boba to take Luke to their small shielded meditation room. Boba held Luke tighter, nodding and carrying him off deeper into the house, running a soothing hand down his back. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, heading down the stairs to the only possible source of the disturbance.

***

Jango looks up at the sound of the door opening, tears running down his face. He waves with the datapad “I did that?” he asks his riduur brokenly. The pad is open on one of the last letters Cody – Kote, his Kote! – wrote to the shinies of Kamino. Passing down the stories of those marching on ahead. No one would ever know the end of the story. Kote would never write home about the end of the war. No one would ever write down Kote’s story. Jango shivered as he felt his heart break, not just for Kote, but for all of the others whose names he had never gotten to learn. He wanted to throw the pad at the wall, but he couldn’t, couldn’t disrespect their memories like that. He gently put the pad down on the bed before curling up tighter. “This- All this- It’s my fault. All of it.” he mumbled, face buried in his arms. “Kote… Rex… Fox… all of them…”

“Rex is just fine actually. Took the chip out before the order went online,” Obi-Wan said from where he was leaning on the door. He wanted to go and comfort the other man, but he wasn’t sure his riduur would appreciate it – and he wasn’t sure he could handle comforting the man who’d almost gotten him killed on purpose.

“I… What? What do you mean, chip?” Jango looked up startled, shock colouring the force around him.

Obi-Wan blanched. “You- You don’t know?” He sat down on the bed in shock. “I- There were chips. In their brains. The chips… They had- They had orders programmed in. One of them was to kill all Jedi.” Obi-Wan clenched his hands in his laps, the screams of the fallen echoing in his head. He shivered. “Cody… Cody shot me down.” He looked up at Jango, grief shining in his eyes. “He almost killed me, with just a few words it was like… Like the time spend together was gone, wiped away. Like it’d never existed.”

Jango shuddered. This wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t the plan. But without him, who would’ve known what the plan was? Jango turned away from the grief in his riduurs eyes. They sat in silence for a long while, neither knowing what to do but unwilling to leave quite yet.

“I- how do I- is there even any… any fixing this? All of it?” Jango eventually asked, gesturing to the datapad. “Where go I even start?”

Obi-Wan looked up at his riduur, assessing, asking the force for guidance, knowing he couldn’t trust his own judgement in that moment. He stood up with a brief touch to Jango’s shoulder. “You want to redeem yourself? Start with your son.” He said, quietly. “Dinner will be ready in 30. Fresher’s through the curtain. There are clean clothes in the dresser.” He closed the door softly.

Boba was waiting in the corridor, scowl melting away at the look on his cabur’s face. Boba caught him seconds before he hit the floor, sobs muffled in his fist. Boba gently helped him back up, guiding him into the living room, settling his cabur on the plush sofa, wrapping one of their quilts around him. He was about to go grab some tissues from one of the shelves when Obi-Wan pulled him back down into a hug. 

“He didn’t know,” he sobbed. “He didn’t know about the chips.” Obi-Wan felt like he was choking, like there was no air left in the room. His riduur hadn’t known. Boba froze at the revelation, before letting out a tiny, hitched sob and burying his face in his caburs chest. They sat there for a little while, letting the realization wash over them. Not all was forgiven and forgotten, but maybe they could work it out. Eventually, Boba pulled away, eyes red and puffy. “I put Luke to bed, he was very upset… What happened?”

“He read Cody’s letters.” Obi-Wan sighed, remembering the first time he’d read the letters. Cody had shown him the letters after a long, brutal campaign had him ghosting through the Negotiators empty halls, unable to find sleep on the too silent ship. He’d spent that night curled up with Cody, adding to the stories, the parts that Cody didn’t know and Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to know. Boba nodded in understanding before standing up, grabbing the tissues off the shelf, handing them over to his cabur. 

“I’m going to go clean up, the stew is about ready. You should clean up too, cabur,” Boba said, already heading in the direction of the bathroom.

Obi-Wan got up, already dreading going into the kitchen. Flour was a pain to clean up. The kitchen was spotless. The oven was on, a pan of uj’alayi sitting in it, the timer slowly counting down the minutes. Obi-Wan muffled a sob in his hand, unable to hold back the fond smile. Boba was force sent. He didn’t know what he’d do, juggling Luke and everything else without Boba.

He quickly washed his face in the kitchen sink, drying it off with a tea towel. Then he grabbed some bowls and spoons, setting out the table. After a brief moment of consideration, he put on the kettle and pulled the shig off the shelves. They could all use some tea right about now.

He smiled as both Jango and Boba slunk into the room and sat down at opposite sides of the table. They’d need to work on it, but they would make it work.

***  
6 months later  
***

Obi-Wan popped the data-stick into the pad, settling back against his riduurs chest. Boba was curled up in a blanket at his feet, a mug of hot shig carefully balanced on his knee. He’d insisted on being here for this. He deserved to know. Obi-Wan opened the first folder on the pad, clicking on the first letter. With a deep breath, he settled in and began to read aloud.

Vode,  
Since we might be gone soon,  
It’s up to you to read me,  
A letter from us as a memory,  
For if I never make it back  
If I don’t make it out alive,  
I want you to remember us.  
We are not gone, merely marching ahead.  
This is our Story.  
Kote

**Author's Note:**

> The letter from Cody is an adapted rough translation from La Lettre de Métal by Indochine because it just seemed fitting to end it on this.  
> I’m sorry there wasn’t more fluff, but I honestly don’t know where the hell I would fit it in here.  
> I promise there will be more fluff later in the week! ♥
> 
> Mando’a
> 
> Riduur: spouse  
> Beskar’gam: Mandalorian armour  
> Ka’ra: stars  
> ‘ika: diminutive  
> Cabur: guardian  
> Uj'alayi: dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice  
> Shig: Mandalorian tea  
> (Let me know if I missed anything!)


End file.
